


In Forgetfulness Divine

by azephirin



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: st_xi_kink, Cuddling and Snuggling, Exhaustion, Friendship, Gen, Illness, Insomnia, Kink Meme, Sleep, Sleepiness, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close / In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes....</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	In Forgetfulness Divine

**Author's Note:**

> G-rated gen. I'm as surprised as you are. Written, ironically, for **[st_xi_kink](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink)** and originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/5912.html?thread=14258712#t14258712). Title and summary from "[To Sleep](http://www.bartleby.com/101/636.html)," by John Keats.

Three of them on the sofa in the rec room: Nyota in the middle, McCoy on one side with his feet in her lap, Chekov on the other side with his eyelids drooping. Two weeks since they picked up that virus at the spaceport, and it's run its way through most of the crew by now, wreaking intestinal havoc and then leaving one remaining but fortunately temporary symptom: untreatable insomnia.

They're watching one of the holovids Kirk picked up while they were docked--one of the very few that isn't some kind of strange alien porn. It's not very interesting--probably intended for small children, which Nyota suspects Kirk didn't realize--but it's something to do during these long hours awake but exhausted.

"How you doing?" McCoy asks her.

Nyota shrugs, pats his ankle. He's good company, this grumpy, tender-hearted man. "Not much change." She feels Chekov move, and glances over to see that he's slumped over towards her just a little bit. His eyelids are fluttering, like he's trying to stay awake despite himself but losing the battle. "Looks like he's pulling out of it, though."

McCoy cranes his neck to look as Chekov slumps a little more and his eyes finally fall closed. Another few moments and he's asleep on her shoulder. His eyelids are translucent, revealing a delicate blue lacework of veins; the bruise-dark circles below are a shocking contrast. His face is peaceful, and Nyota can't help it--she wraps an arm around him, strokes his soft curls. He's so smart, and so young, and she's never asked, but she thinks that he must have a family and a home that he misses.

He makes a contented noise and settles more securely into place. The sudden pang is so strong that it's nearly a physical clench on Nyota's heart: her own family, her home, watching holovids late at night with her sister, and the warm weight of Kioni dozing off like this, curled up against Nyota.

McCoy grunts and, with evident effort, begins to get up. Nyota wonders how much of his insomnia is viral and how much is worry; it's dragged on longer than almost anyone else's. "I'll get him to his quarters," McCoy says, but Nyota keeps her arm where it is and presses gently down, holding his feet in place.

"He's fine. Stay where you are. We can move him later."

McCoy makes various grumbling noises, but reestablishes his position against the sofa's arm.

Half an hour later, he's yawning.

It's the last thing Nyota remembers before she too finally falls asleep.


End file.
